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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24960277">If we go through Hell and trust each other</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TullyBlue/pseuds/TullyBlue'>TullyBlue</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bleach</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Angel!Renji Abarai, Established RenIchi, Four Dumb Boys Go Monsterhunting, Friendship, Hunter!Chad, Hunter!Ichigo Kurosaki, Implied Sexual Content, Look there's no excuse for this, M/M, Men of Letters!Uryu Ishida, Recreational Drug Use, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:15:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,861</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24960277</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TullyBlue/pseuds/TullyBlue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is Chad happy? Still planning on coming back home?” </p><p>“Yeah, he better be. Hasn’t said otherwise.” </p><p>Ichigo paused to think about that first question, even though he couldn’t judge how happy Chad had been before they arrived and he starting hooking up with Ishida. He wasn’t exactly an expressive dude. He never really said much, but then again, that was one of the things that allowed him to get so close to Ichigo. Even as a teenager, his patience was impressive. The days when Ichigo showed up wearing a scowl darker than usual and didn’t say a word never bothered Chad any more than the days Ichigo had energy to burn and dragged him to the park after school for a few games of basketball.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Abarai Renji/Kurosaki Ichigo, Ishida Uryuu &amp; Kurosaki Ichigo, Ishida Uryuu &amp; Kurosaki Ichigo &amp; Sado "Chad" Yasutora, Ishida Uryuu/Sado "Chad" Yasutora</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sounds like you don't get along.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I really wanted to write Ichigo as a Winchester, is how this basically started, but definitely not how it ended up. This will be a short fic set in the Supernatural 'verse, where the Shinigami are angels and Aizen &amp; Co. are demons; Hollows are various monsters, but that won't really come into play. The Men of Letters legacies are Quincy descendants.</p><p>This has been a lot of fun so far. I hope you enjoy the story!</p><p>Title from Solence.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ichigo snorted into his beer, spilling it down his chin and shirt as he sputtered into the receiver. Swatting a hand against Ishida’s arm, he gestured to the television and then across his neck, glaring at the man next to him. With a roll of his eyes, his companion grabbed the remote off the table and muted it at Ichigo’s request. The sounds of <em>Carnivore Kingdom</em> were cut off abruptly.</p><p>“Are you there?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I’m here, but where the hell have <em>you</em> been, Chad? I haven’t heard from you in, like, three years!”</p><p>He waved off Ishida’s eyebrows popping up, rolled his eyes when Chad grunted a quiet, “Yeah, well...”</p><p>“<em>Yeah, well</em>, nothin’! I woulda thought you were dead if it weren’t for Kisuke keepin’ tabs on ya. If he weren’t still you’re regular supplier, I wouldn’t even know you were alive, Chad. What the hell kinda friend is that?”</p><p>There was a heavy silence on the phone. Ichigo knew that was just how Chad was, but it didn’t stop him from getting that much more pissed off. He exhaled angrily through his nose, took a swig of his beer, waited for Chad to talk. Finally,  he said, “I told you where I was going.”</p><p>He stated it as simple fact. And to him, it probably was. To Ichigo, it sure would have been, if Rukia hadn’t helped him track down the ghoul that killed his mother, all those years ago. What Chad was hunting – that was a bigger fish, a harder catch. He understood why tracking him down took three years; what he didn’t get was why those three years involved no contact at all. Before he took off, Chad and Ichigo had been inseparable since they were kids. The sudden silent treatment had fucked him up a bit. He understood, but he sure didn’t feel like sympathizing with Chad.</p><p>“Didn’t have a cell phone where you were going?”</p><p>He heard his earlier exhale mirrored by Chad over the phone. His tone was pretty biting, to be talking to someone he had been missing for so many years. Ichigo sighed, tucked his teenage temper away and finished his beer. “I’ve got company, if you don’t mind someone taggin’ along with me.”</p><p>“Wouldn't mind seeing Rukia.”</p><p>“Get in line, pal. She’s off doin’ business for Kisuke and won’t be back for a month or so.”</p><p>“Oh. Who is it?”</p><p>Ishida had lost interest in his conversation until he mentioned company, and now stared at his book with a tiny little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. The amusement radiating off of him was annoying as shit. Ichigo hated asking for his help and they both knew it. That smirk was there to say, <em>Ha, can't wait to hear how big you'll owe me</em>. He fought the urge to smack it off his face. No matter how much of an asshole the guy could be, he was damn useful, had gotten Ichigo out of more trouble than he cared to admit, and knew his way around a demon like nobody’s business. Next to Rukia, he was Ichigo’s preferred partner – at least, since Chad ditched.</p><p>“Real smart guy, and he just so happens to be a demon expert.”</p><p>Chad grunted again, less impatient and more amused. “Sounds like you don’t get along.”</p><p>“Not really, but he’ll be a big help.”</p><p>“Kisuke already made your travel arrangements. I think your flight leaves in the morning.”</p><p>He sighed and glanced at the clock. Looks like he’d be sleeping on the plane. He stood up and padded over to the fridge, phone cradled between his shoulder and cheek as he rummaged around for another beer. “Course it does,” he muttered. Ichigo cracked the top off the bottle, drank deep, belched unapologetically in Chad's ear. “Guess I’ll see you soon. I expect a helluva welcome party, Sado.”</p><p>“You got it.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He knew that three years was a long time between friends, and he also knew that the moment he and Ichigo were reunited, three years would feel like nothing. There was only one reason he would have ever disappeared from his best friend’s life for so long: he had been hunting down the demon who murdered his abuelo and gave him these unholy powers, tracking him from his old town in Mexico, down into South America, where Chad lost him for a few months. He picked up the trace in Cuba, followed the scent in Florida, and finally circled back towards Mexico.</p><p>His abuelo had raised him to be patient, but three years was a long time. Thirteen was even more, and he wanted to feel as if his abuelo was finally at peace. He had rented a little beach house, got a job on the docks, and let the sounds of the Gulf lull him to sleep at night for the last six months in this tiny Texan town, waiting for a chance to corner the Yellow-Eyed Demon. There were no openings he could see, no way he could get close enough without betting his life on a slight chance of taking the demon’s. Chad needed better odds than that.</p><p>The phone call to Urahara had been easy. He called once a month, anyway, though the shopkeeper was immediately suspicious of him calling a week in advance. Of course, Urahara was more than happy to help – for a price, but three years living the frugal life of a monster hunter had built him a steady savings – as well as volunteer Ichigo. That phone call had been harder. He expected the disbelief and the anger, felt bad for hurting his best friend with his thoughtlessness. Chad usually tried to be considerate.</p><p>Shortcomings weighing heavily on his mind, he made sure Ichigo and his mysterious co-worker (<em>We’re not fucking friends</em>, Ichigo had growled into his voicemail during his rant on any potential sleeping arrangements, <em>and I can barely stand to work with him!</em>) had a worthy welcome. He tidied up his little house, stowing away some of his work out equipment so that the large guest bedroom felt less like a home gym. The attached bathroom needed a good dusting, and he had to buy some more towels, but otherwise looked fine. His room was another story. It was the most lived-in room of his house. He didn’t feel right hiding away every personal item he owned, even if someone else would temporarily be sleeping in his bed. Chad settled on sticking a few of his more private things in his closet, out of the way, and giving the rest of the house a good cleaning. He stocked up both the fridge and the pantry. The little shed out back that doubled as his weaponry never ran low, on anything.</p><p>He was as ready as he would ever be. Breaking the news to Ichigo had been easy, thanks to Urahara’s well-known tendency to meddle. Their plane would arrive at seven in the morning. Chad got to the airport at six and immediately headed in the direction of caffeine. He took his place in line at the coffee bar, settling in to wait.</p><p>Two cups later, the correct flight had landed and the passengers were disembarking. He waited with the crowd, towering over most everyone, hands in his pockets and bangs obscuring his eyes. Part of him was nervous to see Ichigo again, though a larger part was excited. He had missed his best friend. Attitude and all.</p><p>“Man, what the hell, I thought I’d gotten taller.” A pair of solid arms wrapped right around Chad’s biceps, hands splayed across his back as Ichigo pulled him in for a hug. “Doesn’t look like it, though. I guess I was wrong.”</p><p>One large hand patted Ichigo on the back. He huffed at the force, pulling back but leaving his hands on Chad's arms, and he leaned back as if to take in the sight of him. Ichigo was smiling, eyes crinkled at the corners and mouth open in something that looked like a silent laugh.</p><p>“It’s good to see you, Chad.”</p><p>“You, too.” He patted him again and removed his hand. There was someone flanking Ichigo, standing at his shoulder like a loyal lieutenant, and he wondered if this was the infamous Ishida he had heard so little about. He looked like someone Ichigo wouldn’t get along with. Those deep blue eyes of his took everything in, a keen intelligence hiding behind his glasses, and the way his lips turned up at the corners when Chad nearly crushed his hand in greeting said that he had a smart mouth, too. Ichigo got enough of that from Rukia and his sisters. He probably rolled his eyes every time Ishida spoke, scowled every time he smirked.</p><p>Chad thought it was refreshing, and so was the way this lean, buttoned-up man returned the force of his handshake without blinking. He flexed his hand when Ishida let go. His own barely-there grin raised Ichigo’s eyebrows, but Yasutora ignored the look he pointedly gave the two of them. “Nice to meet you, Ishida-san.”</p><p>“And you, Yasutora Sado.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The beach house was something Ichigo didn’t expect, but he sure as hell liked. After spending a full day on four different flights, sitting in the sand with his feet in the water felt like resting in a way the twelve hours he’d slept had not.</p><p>It was his first time in the States. Chad said it may as well be Mexico, for how close to the border they were, but he had heard almost as many people speaking English as he had Spanish, not that he was too good with either one. Of course, Chad switched flawlessly between Japanese when explaining things to him, English when he had to retrieve Ichigo’s lost bag at the airport, and Spanish to order their dinner, tacos from a truck, of all things, a mile or so down the beach.</p><p>It bugged him that his English was only passable after studying it so many years. And he was pissed off when he heard Ishida chattering away to Chad in his own strangely-accented but apparently fluent Spanish, especially when he knew damn well Ishida spoke English way better than he could hope to. Honestly, it was bad enough the guy had so much more demon knowledge than him, too, but it wasn’t exactly his fault his mom hadn’t gotten to tell him about the Men of Letters. Not that he wants much to do with them. Stuffy meetings and uptight outfits weren’t really his thing, thanks. Hunting the old fashioned way suited him just fine.</p><p>He’d heard the American chapter was a bit more like that, since it got revived. Maybe he’d look in to that. It would definitely piss off Ishida. The two guys who ran it were supposed to be a pair of legends, brothers and hunters who had fought everything out there. Might not be his worst idea.</p><p>Chad plopped down beside him in the sand, a six pack in one hand to help wash down their food. It wasn’t half bad, he admitted after two or three, even if he wasn’t used to getting much besides roasted potatoes from a food truck. The beer was even better. It wasn’t much like what they had back home. Chad had gone to a specialty border store to get it, and the smooth, cold beer was well worth it.</p><p>He opened a bottle and toasted Chad, a rare grin on his face. Ishida was stuck inside the beach house being entertained by the neighbors, a pair of hunters that Urahara sent down here to Chad a while back. Rukia might be away on some mysterious business she wasn’t talking about, and Renji might be too busy to answer his calls this week, and he might be worried about his family back home, but his partner wasn’t out here to annoy him and he had his best friend by his side again. The waves were cool, the sand was warm, and he felt good. It was a damn fine welcoming party.</p><p>“You’ve got a nice place out here,” he said, eyes trained on the ocean. There was a boat way, way out, and it would be dark enough soon that he wouldn’t be able to see it. He wondered what they were all the way out there for – fishing, traveling, getting away from the land?</p><p>“I like it alright. Working at the docks is a good job, but I don’t like it too much. The house is better.”</p><p>Ichigo nodded. “The house is great.” He liked all the windows, and the porch rails made out of driftwood. The view was the best thing about it.</p><p>“I miss home.”</p><p>Some uncomfortable knot in his stomach uncurled when Chad said <em>home</em>, like it wasn’t here, like it was still back in Karakura Town even though <em>he</em> hadn’t been in so fucking long. Ichigo felt his grin turn into a genuine smile, for just a moment, but he knew Chad saw it flash by. “Then I guess we better kill this fucker so you can come back, huh?”</p><p>In a gesture he recognized as his own, his friend ran a hand through his hair, shaggy bangs pushed back to expose his eyes for a few seconds. He nodded at Ichigo and said, “That’s the plan.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He spent the evening entertaining the hunters who lived next door, a young woman named Ririn and her rather quiet cousin, Noba. It looked as though Ririn was going to be quite the headache, until he tried to wave her off to do a bit of research. That seemed to be their sole purpose at the moment and she was more than eager to compare notes. The lore he had access to far surpassed that of even the most experienced hunter; his knowledge was a library, a collection of accounts and information from generations of learned men hunting the supernatural.</p><p>They surprised him with the usefulness of their firsthand accounts and the information taken from the demon’s underlings. Much of his research could be cross referenced to their notes in order to compare the reality with written word, and he was confident that the image he had in mind of this Szayel Appro’s strength was clear. No matter how old or powerful this demon, Uryuu would take him down. It was the mission he had taken on.</p><p>Ririn had fallen asleep with her face pressed into a 12th century text, and he felt an uncomfortable tick building in his cheek at her carelessness. He raised a brow at Noba, who lifted her head long enough for Uryuu to remove the scroll, which he then returned to its protective tube. The moon was reflected in full view on the water by the time Noba lifted the much smaller girl into his arms and waved goodbye. Kurosaki and his friend were still down by the water, so he made himself another cup of tea and kept working.</p><p>Ichigo stumbled up the porch steps first, cursing the beaded curtain in the doorway as it tangled around his arms, though that might not have happened if he hadn’t started flailing them around. When he finally managed to free himself, he walked straight past Uryuu with a half-hearted wave and then down the hall, only to disappear through one of the doors.</p><p>He was still staring after Kurosaki when his host appeared, on both steadier and more silent feet than their mutual acquaintance. Uryuu turned to look at him instead. It was no hard task, with a man so devastatingly attractive. His dark skin, broad shoulders, and wavy hair had caught Uryuu's eye even before Ichigo had launched himself at the most handsome man in the entirety of the crowded Austin airport, and it had been difficult to look away since. The distraction was as disorienting as the attraction, making his head spin and his heart pound when he should be focused on the lore he had been reading for the last twenty minutes. Sado had put him on edge in an instant, but Uryuu wasn’t one to back down. Threats and intimidation would not work on him when he encountered demons, wendigos, and witches; he refused to let this scare him.</p><p>The clenching in his gut, when he looked up from a former Men of Letters’s accounts on the information he had gathered on the Princes of Hell, was decidedly not fear. Uryuu wished the sea would toss a breeze through the window. The room felt much hotter than it had seconds ago.</p><p>Sado had left his shirt on the beach, or the porch, or somewhere in between that Uryuu didn’t really care to think about. He was too busy wondering if his palm would cover the full circumference of the Devil’s trap tattooed just above his heart or not. His fingers clenched around the leather-bound journal he had been reading until a minute ago. Uryuu urged his eyes to move, and move they did, trailing along the line of a guitar strap crossing a defined chest, down to read the sharp V of Sado’s hip bones peeking out of his shorts, the length of muscular calves exposed where those shorts ended, and then, at last, back up to a knowing face.</p><p>The once over had been an accident, but in Uryuu’s defense, who looked like that? Tall, dark, and handsome was supposed to be an unattainable standard, not a damn <em>starting point</em>. Yasutora Sado had taken the phrase and perfected it. <em>Looking</em> felt like the very least Uryuu could do.</p><p>He released the book in his hands, placing it on the table gently before pushing up his glasses. There was no shame in appreciating his host’s (ridiculously) good looks. He would not be embarrassed by being caught doing so. Uryuu took a safe path, chose a neutral topic to speak of, and made eye contact as best as he could, with the dark fringe of bangs half covering Sado’s eyes.</p><p>“Did you enjoy your reunion with Kurosaki?”</p><p>The silence stretched between them, but he had noticed in the few hours between Sado’s home and the airport, that he usually took his time in responding. It hadn’t bothered his friend, so it would not bother him. Finally, Sado said, “I did. It’s been a long time.”</p><p>“He said as much. I also got the impression that he was very excited to be seeing you again, despite the length of time it had been since you last spoke.”</p><p>“Ichigo’s pretty understanding, when he wants to be.”</p><p>The insightful nature of the observation surprised Uryuu, though he supposed if the two of them had been friends for as long as Kurosaki said, it would make sense for Sado to know him so well. Uryuu could think of several times the loud-mouthed menace had proved himself to be capable of great sympathy. One of those times had even led to their current partnership.</p><p>“Are you enjoying your trip?”</p><p>He dragged himself away from reflecting on Kurosaki’s friendships and back to the conversation at hand, which he hadn’t expected to continue, really, but that was more than fine. “Very much. It’s been a while since I’ve traveled out of the country, and I like being able to exercise my language skills more authentically.”</p><p>Sado tilted his head, exposing those large, overwhelming eyes clearly, Uryuu thought of dark keyaki walls and being pressed against them. “I didn’t expect Ichigo’s new partner to know Spanish.”</p><p>“Japanese, English, Mandarin, German, and Spanish,” he listed with a smirk, the way Sado’s eyes widened gratifying him. </p><p>“Impressive.”</p><p>“German is my weakest conversationally, and I only picked up Mandarin and Spanish for Men of Letters business.” He shrugged it off, as if the flush in his cheeks didn’t tell Sado exactly how much he enjoyed the recognition.</p><p>“I like it.”</p><p>His eyebrows drifted somewhere near his hairline as he took that sentence in, leaving him to try and decipher the drop in tone and volume, the intensity in Sado’s gaze. The room was too warm; Uryuu was too disoriented. He watched the rise and fall of that broad chest, thought if he stared close enough, he could see a pulse beating under the tan skin of his throat.</p><p>“It’s late. Let me show you to bed.”</p><p>Those words sent a shiver down his spine that Uryuu wasn’t entirely sure he managed to hide, even if Sado gave no indication that he saw it. He nodded, imagining that Sado wanted to turn in, himself, once his guests were settled. It was late. His eyes hadn't drifted towards the clock in a while, but they must have spent some time down on the shore. He took in the sight of his workspace and stifled a sigh. The small kitchen table was covered with all the necessities of research, due to a bad habit of spreading out as much as possible when he worked, and there hadn't been much room to begin with. He began numbly collecting all the tomes and scrolls that he and Ririn had spread out. The action of putting away his work didn’t need attention, and his was certainly too far gone elsewhere to attend to this.</p><p>Wordlessly, Sado started to help. He stacked books and moved them off to the side, atop a desk that Uryuu hadn’t noticed tucked into the corner, a practical use for a bachelor hunter’s breakfast nook. Any loose papers or unbound articles were passed to Uryuu for him to put away. Those dark eyes would linger on Uryuu for a brief, burning second each time their fingers brushed.</p><p>With the table cleared, Uryuu grabbed his suitcase of clothing and left the one better referred to as a mobile library behind. He followed Sado to the same hall Kurosaki had weaved down earlier. They entered a room at the end of the hall, bypassing the one opposite Ichigo’s, and Uryuu knew immediately that it was Sado’s bedroom. The gauzy ruby curtains and pale wood floors looked nice in the moonlight. The scent of sea spray and something else, something heady with a hint of spice, filled the shadowed room.</p><p>Sado took the guitar off his back and placed it in a case, stretched out across the top of a dresser with clothes peeking from closed drawers. There were two more similar looking cases near the open closet. He moved the first one to join them, the three necks leaning together like drunkards. Stacks of CDs towered beside a sizable stereo system, all of which was situated in plain view of a plush couch, as though it were a television, and Uryuu spotted a few band posters in the dark. Sado's love of music was etched into every inch of this room. He swept his eyes over the walls, the furniture, the floors, and wondered what else he could figure out about the man who clicked his guitar case shut as though he were tucking in a toddler.</p><p>His gaze landed on the bed wedged into a corner. The couch had also been done up for someone to sleep on, a quilt folded over one arm with a pillow and an old, well-loved stuffed lion waiting beside it. Surprising, for such a man as Sado, but the idea of a secret soft side made Uryuu even more curious. He wouldn't have laid it out for a guest, surely. Which meant that Sado slept with the stuffed lion, and planned to cram himself on that couch for the night. While fairly long, Uryuu knew Sado would never fit comfortably. His bed had to be three times as large. It was massive, big enough that Uryuu imagined he could sprawl out on it any which way and neither his arms nor legs would find the edge, which he immediately followed up with thoughts of why he would be sprawled across that bed in a number of positions. The sheets looked dark and smooth and inviting. Sado’s bare shoulders gave him the exact same impression. He felt the urge to run his hands across them so strongly that he nearly crossed the room, pressed himself up against all that bare skin, and did just that.</p><p>Sado was staring silently, as if he could sense that Uryuu was currently of two minds. He hadn’t looked unsure of himself for a single moment that Uryuu had been in his presence, not from their first meeting, the event that started his apparent descent into madness. Usually, he exuded that same self-assuredness as Sado. At the age of 27, Uryuu no longer had to fake confidence in himself, unless something was unsettling him.</p><p>His hands shook the slightest bit when he started to undo the buttons on his sleeves. The moonlight shone on his skin differently that Sado’s, Uryuu noticed, when he was finished unbuttoning his top and had peeled it away. Silver scars crisscrossed his arms, so pale they almost glittered when they caught the light, in comparison to the way the moon’s rays made the tan expanse of Sado’s chest look as though he were glowing from within. Uryuu folded his shirt carefully and took measured steps across the room to place it atop the dresser. There was plenty of room, now that Sado had moved the guitar case.</p><p>He could hear the other man breathing, deep and even, as they stood a few feet away from each other. The waves breaking against the shore seemed whisper quiet in comparison. Uryuu turned around, hands braced against the dresser behind him, and stared at Sado. The urge to throw caution to the wind and show his hand burned through him. He had not imagined that greeting, or the lingering looks through the rear view mirror of that beastly truck, or that husky tone in the dining room, but he was supposed to be here for work. He was here on a hunt. That was no place for immediate, consuming attraction. At least, it had never been, before Sado.</p><p>Uryuu sucked in a quiet breath, hands reaching behind his head to tug off the thin undershirt he was wearing. Maybe there was a middle ground, somewhere between assurance and doubt, not quite faked but blown up, exaggerated. He watched Sado’s face as he folded it and placed it with the other shirt. His eyes were still mostly obscured, but Uryuu stared at the slow drag of a pink tongue along his bottom lip and let his insecurities vanish. The burning in his chest wasn’t only attraction, but the heated gaze of Sado observing him intently. He would rise to this challenge.</p><p>He let his hands drift to the front of his slacks, lean fingers settling on the fastenings as he smirked at Sado. “I hope you aren’t planning to try and sleep on that couch. It looks much too small for you.” Uryuu crossed over to the bed in nothing but white boxers and black socks. He forced the hard line of his shoulders to relax, stretched a hand out towards the bed. The sheets were cool, and that heady scent was much, much stronger the closer he got to them. He inhaled deeply, placing a knee on the mattress and glancing over his shoulder to raise an impatient brow at Sado. “Unless you <em>aren’t</em> interested in sharing.”</p><p>Sado crossed the room in one, two, three long, lean strides, and managed to ditch the rest of his clothes in that short period of time, too. Uryuu was impressed, and that feeling grew as he watched Sado crawl across the bed after him. The compromise with his confidence had paid off. A self-satisfied smirk crossed Uryuu's face when Sado reached out and gently removed his glasses, folding the arms and sitting them on the night stand. Warm hands settled on his thighs as he waited for his vision to adjust. The moonlight from the open windows illuminated the man looming over him. Uryuu stared at Sado with wide, voracious eyes; he devoured the sight of flushed cheeks and parted, plush lips. He hadn’t done nearly enough staring to be content, yet, but he would remedy that soon enough.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. He's saved your life a hundred times or more</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Ririn,” Uryuu interrupted. He was feeling kind, indeed. It might have had something to do with the heavy hand on his thigh, out of sight and out of his hunting partner’s mind, or maybe the husky voice singing in the ear Kurosaki wasn’t whining in. It definitely had something to do with Yasutora either way. “Why don’t you go get that enchanted dagger and Renji will tell you the story of how he found it?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Meet the absolute chaos of this verse's established RenIchi. The Shinigami/Angels are a bit more accustomed to hiding out among humans than the SPN angels, so they're a bit more fun. I learned, while researching for this chapter, that German numbers are ridiculous, and also tipsy Uryuu is fun.</p><p>achtzig - eighty<br/>einhundertzierundsiebzig - one hundred and sixty-four</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It felt weird, to be the last one awake in his own house, to open his eyes and be greeted with the smell of breakfast cooking and the sounds of quick, quiet bickering. He rolled over, Ponchiki unsticking from his arm and falling to the mattress. Chad winced. No wonder he’d slept so late. It had been a long time since he’d spent a night like that, hours wrapped around someone else that left him so feeling boneless and sated he drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep. </p><p>He spent a few minutes with his eyes trained on the ceiling and his mind on Uryuu Ishida. Chad knew a few pieces of relevant information about him: he was the same age as both him and Ichigo, set to turn 28 a few months after Chad himself; he was a legacy member of the Japanese branch of the Men of Letters; he spoke five languages, knew more about demons that ninety percent of the hunters in the States combined, traveled infrequently, and seemed to excel at everything he did. Everything else he had learned had been hands-on. Such as the fact that Uryuu didn’t seem to say much more than Chad himself, for all the talking he did. </p><p>The sound of the oven dinging drew his attention back to the noise coming from the kitchen. Well, he could add<em> knows how to cook </em>to that list, unless Yuzu had worked a miracle and taught Ichigo a few things in the past few years. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed and walked towards his dresser, chuckling at the thought. The laughter stopped when he tried to bend down and find a suitable pair of shorts, when it turned into a strangled noise in his throat, and he had to use the top of the dresser to straighten himself up. He snagged a pair of jeans out of the closet and slid them on carefully, instead. </p><p>Chad debated on trying to hop into the shower unnoticed before breakfast, but his stomach rumbled pretty loudly around the same time Ichigo started shouting, so he scrapped that idea. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. The sated-sleepy-high of his morning was fading too soon. At least there was breakfast to look forward to. </p><p>“-don’t understand your problem, Kurosaki, considering you were asleep as soon as we were in the air for all four flights-” </p><p>“-fucking insensitive can you be, you goddamn animal! I can’t believe what’s coming out of your mouth-” </p><p>“-and you looked inebriated enough to sleep through a pack of werewolves breaking in-” </p><p>“-guess I should have drunk a <em>helluva </em>lot more, then-” </p><p>Ichigo had his ass planted at one of the three barstools at his kitchen island, the other two covered by his legs and feet as he glared daggers at Uryuu, arms crossed over his chest. In contrast, Uryuu looked utterly unruffled. He moved from counter to stove top to fridge to oven, walking a constant track around the kitchen as he made enough food to feed an army. Chad spotted bacon, sausage, eggs, rice, oranges, and bananas on the island alone. He also noticed, when Uryuu spun around from the stove to the sink, that he was wearing Chad’s apron over a fresh version of yesterday’s button-up and slacks. </p><p>“Morning,” he said, glad his voice was too hoarse upon waking to sound as choked as he felt. </p><p>The argument came to an abrupt stop, leaving Ichigo glaring at the floor while Uryuu gave Chad another look from over his shoulder. His quiet confidence was a mirror of last night, though the challenging expression was gone, replaced with a smile both smug and soft. He watched, too obviously, as Uryuu smiled and continued to cook. Chad walked over to the island, eyes roaming over the organized mess Uryuu had made of his kitchen. </p><p>“Need any help?” </p><p>The beaming face Uryuu turned back around to shine on him was worth the disgusted noise Ichigo made beside him, as well as the dark look Uryuu sent Ichigo in return. Chad blinked, smiled back, realized he probably looked stupid. He also glanced at the stove top, sizzling and popping, and figured he should have put on a shirt before offering to help. </p><p>“No, thank you. I hope you don’t mind,” Uryuu said, gesturing vaguely to the entire kitchen. “I’m an early riser,” he added, like that explained everything about the four coarse breakfast they were going to be eating soon. </p><p>“Not at all.” Hardly any of his previous, unplanned hook-ups had put him in a morning-after situation, considering the types of people Chad found to keep him company usually required only an hour or so in the backseat or a motel room. This was definitely the first time one had made him breakfast. Though when he thought about it, Uryuu seemed like the kind of man who didn’t do things by halves. He put all of his effort into <em>everything</em>, Chad was learning. It was...inspiring. </p><p>“I figured it was the least I could do, since you were kind enough to let us stay here-” </p><p>Ichigo started to mutter under his breath, and Uryuu cut those cobalt eyes at him sharply. His mouth snapped shut. The defiant glare on the redhead's face said the issue, whatever it was, wasn’t settled. Chad knocked his feet off the closest stool and took a seat. They sat in a tense silence until he brought up the hunt. Ichigo was reluctantly drawn into the conversation when he and Uryuu began discussing the powers of a Prince of Hell versus those of a common demon. It broke the ice enough for them to eat breakfast with only the companionable sounds of silverware clinking and drinks being placed back down. As soon as his plate was clear, Ichigo took off outside to try and contact Urahara, waving off Chad’s questions with a scowl and red cheeks. </p><p>He had been both expectantly waiting and quietly dreading being left alone with Uryuu for the first time today, simply because he didn’t know what to do. They were left to clean up the kitchen together, which made him think of clearing the table of all those books and papers the night before. Hours later, he was still surprised how the night had turned out. Uryuu surprised him, and Chad surprised himself as well. He had brushed off that honey-sweet feeling in his chest when the other man had nonchalantly and non-verbally threatened to break the bones in his hand with a polite smile on his face, nearly convincing himself to think of the feeling as a fluke. He shouldn’t have felt it, again and again, anytime he caught those intense eyes on him, or as soon as Uryuu asked him about his childhood in Mexico using too-formal Spanish from the backseat of Chad’s Bronco while Ichigo fiddled with the radio. He probably shouldn’t have pressed his hands, mouth, and hips against that lean, porcelain body inviting him into his own bed, either, but it was too late. Chad didn’t like to linger on things that could be regrets, and he didn’t know if this one qualified just yet. Figuring that out seemed daunting. </p><p>“Thanks for breakfast. I was afraid Ichigo would burn down the kitchen when I woke up and smelled someone cooking.” </p><p>Uryuu’s lips twisted into an approximation of a smile. Then it wasn’t the wrong thing to say, at least. “You’re welcome.” He pushed up his glasses and the corners of his mouth moved up by centimetres. “I wasn’t sure how late you would sleep, but it only made sense that you would...have an appetite.” </p><p>Chad flushed. Uryuu’s eyes moved from his face and down the column of his throat to his chest, tracking the path of his blush. Alright. He could follow his lead. He wasn’t sure he could match that boldness, that explicit interest shining in those summer sea eyes; he thought it would be interesting to try, though.  </p><p>“You were right about that. It was surprising,” he said, stepping closer to Uryuu slowly, gauging his reaction, “to find you in the kitchen.” </p><p>He tilted his head, looking up at Chad, his glasses catching the light in way that obscured his eyes for a second. When he spoke, he almost sounded self-conscious. The pink in his cheeks was endearing. It made him feel better about his own embarrassment. “I usually don’t, ah, impose on my hosts in such a manner.” </p><p>Chad cracked a smile, reaching out to brush his knuckles against Uryuu’s flushed face. “I definitely didn’t mind an imposing Uryuu Ishida.” </p><p>“From the way you were talking, I didn’t think so, but breakfast can double as both an apology and thanks.” </p><p>“You’re welcome,” he said too quickly, but he liked the way Uryuu barked a surprised laugh and then grinned shyly at him after he did. Stomach twisting, Chad admitted, “I usually don’t share my bed with my guests.” </p><p>“Mmm, Kurosaki said as much.” </p><p>His hand, resting against Uryuu’s cheek, dropped to his side and he turned his head to try and catch a glimpse of his friend out of one of the numerous windows. Chad saw no hint of orange or black, just gray-tan sand and endless blue. “Ichigo already knows?” </p><p>Uryuu reached out, snaked a pale hand up his arm until it rested on his bicep, above the tattoo there. The cool touch on his skin drew his attention back to Uryuu. He was staring at his own hand, resting on Chad’s muscular arm, eyes far away even as he answered, “Yes, it seems we kept him awake for most of the night.” </p><p>A complicated mix of embarrassment, amusement, and pride warred inside him, and he shut the lid on that rather than trying to work out all of those emotions at once. He couldn’t go back and be any quieter now, could he? He really should have thought to be more considerate of Ichigo last night, but he can’t recall his friend crossing his mind one time after he’d gone to bed and left him alone with Uryuu. Chad considered that he should feel a little worse about that. He looked down at Uryuu and connected a few dots. “Oh. The argument I walked in on.” </p><p>Uryuu nodded, that teasing glint back in his eyes. “He started dressing me down as soon as I stepped out of your room this morning. I tried to remind him that he’d refused to share your bed when you were making the sleeping arrangements, and therefore he shouldn’t have a problem with me doing so, but he didn’t see it quite that way.” </p><p>He could imagine Ichigo tripping over his words and trying to argue, but definitely not agreeing to Uryuu’s point at all. That sounded right. “I’m sorry.” </p><p>Brows furrowed, Uryuu said, “I’m not,” and seemed to mean it. He curved his hand around Chad’s neck and drew him down for a kiss. Chad settled his big hands on Uryuu’s waist, chuckled against his lips when Uryuu pushed him up against the fridge. There were magnets digging into his back and the front of the refrigerator was chilling against his bare skin, but Uryuu’s mouth was hot and his hands insistent. He only pulled away when he had proved his point. Chad slumped against the fridge, ignoring the magnets and trying to catch his breath. Smiling, almost to himself, Uryuu returned to the sink and began unbuttoning his sleeves to get started on the dishes. </p><p>“Why don’t you start on the laundry while I finish up in here? Make Kurosaki strip his own sheets, though, Yasutora, you aren’t his mother. He should be off the phone by now.” </p><p>He nodded, because that was pretty much the only thing he could do, and began walking around the house to collect the clothes that needed washed. It was strange, indeed, to be Yasutora Sado today. He floated around the house, lost in thought. Lost in the feeling of being around people who seemed to care for him. </p><p>By the time he had finished searching for discarded clothes and worked up the courage to find Ichigo and repeat Uryuu’s orders, his tiny dining room had been repurposed as a study once more. He was sure his two guests had to have brought half a library between them. The Men of Letters were rumored to have the largest collection of information on the supernatural, in languages he had never heard of and concerning monsters he had never seen. It was said their collection was as close to complete as a library of information on the supernatural got. Considering he had seen Urahara’s personal library, that was saying something. </p><p>Soon enough, he, Ichigo, and Uryuu were spread out among the pages and scrolls. There had to be a way to kill a Prince of Hell; Ichigo was convinced Uryuu could find a way, at least. He’d said his new hunting partner was basically the authority on demons back home, even surprising Ichigo’s angel pals with his knowledge. Chad didn’t want to feel like this guy he had just met was his only hope, no matter what he figured out about the mess of emotions Uryuu caused to swirl around in his gut, but even Urahara hadn’t been able to find any foolproof way of killing such a strong demon. His chest ached under the weight of Abuelo’s loss, even after all these years, with the medallion at his throat a constant reminder of his promise to use his abnormal size and strength to protect those who didn’t know the truth of the world. If he could kill Szayel Aparro, he could bring his abuelo’s murderer to justice and save countless people in the future. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He should have known that the moment he had the chance, Chad was going to be uncomfortably frank about the whole thing. Seriously, the beads over the door hadn’t even stopped swinging before he put down the gun he was cleaning and turned to Ichigo with that solemn stare of his, hidden behind a curtain of dark bangs, but intent enough that Ichigo could feel it on his back. Ishida probably hadn't made it halfway to Noba's place but Chad was already starting this conversation. He sighed, closed the book he was pretending to read, and swiveled the desk chair around to face his friend. </p><p>“Is this a problem?” Chad asked. </p><p>For a minute or two, Ichigo thought about making him sweat over it. He’d told Chad how annoying Ishida could be, how much the two of them fought. There hadn’t been a damn thing in his warning conversation that said<em> sounds like a good fuck</em>. He certainly hadn’t flown halfway around the world on a dime just to get Chad laid. He was here to hunt a demon – a Prince of Hell, for fuck’s sake. They were supposed to be cracking open books and beers and laughing about the wild shit they’d gotten up to in the last three fucking years that Chad had been gone. They were supposed to be catching up, cleaning guns together, busting the faces of a few  low-level  cronies in order to get the right info on the Big Bad, not <em>this</em>. Not talking about how Chad and Ishida were... What, exactly? Fucking around? Involved? He had a moment of panic where he wondered if they were going to start <em>dating</em>. That big breakfast Ishida made felt like too much, all of a sudden. </p><p>The rational part of his brain, which sounded like it barked most of its orders and probably spent way too much money on ridiculous sunglasses, told him to quit being such a brat. It had only been a day since they reunited. It’d been three years since they’ve seen each other. Those hours on the beach last night were already counted as some of the best in his life. Being friends with Chad, and especially just being with Chad, such a steady guy who doesn’t have much to say but was always up to listen, always made Ichigo feel at peace like little else could. He’d missed that as much as he missed Chad. A bit of sleep loss and a queasy stomach wasn’t too bad of a trade off for getting his best friend back, right? </p><p>It took a month of that question plaguing him before he gave in and asked for help. </p><p>“You know that you were basically asking for this, right?” </p><p>“Wha- How the hell can you possibly say that, you traitor?” He spat out the ice cube he’d been about to crunch down on, grinding his teeth the old-fashioned way instead. It landed in the sand and turned into a puddle as he glared down at it. </p><p>That deep, fully amused chuckle that made Ichigo’s stomach flip came over the line. He wished Renji were close enough to smack. And not just because he’d been missing the idiot’s dumb face or annoying voice, or anything like that. Renji was one of those people it was better to throttle in person, that was all. Watching those hundred-dollar shades fall to the floor and seeing his face turn the exact same color as his hair was much better in person than over the phone. </p><p>“Oh, come on, you’re always picking fights with Ishida for no good reason, and now he’s boning your best friend that you haven’t seen in years and is about to move back home? Hilarious. Cosmic irony. Despite the animosity between you two, you’re constantly drawn together.” </p><p>“You’ve been hanging out with goddamn Kyoraku too much,” he snarled into the phone. He tilted the foam cup back and shook another chunk of ice into his mouth. The crunching punctuated his sentence, Renji’s sigh loud in his ears. “There is nothing funny about this.” </p><p>Then Renji stopped laughing and said, “Ichigo,” in that dumb, sincere tone that meant he was gonna say something that Ichigo didn’t want to hear. “You’ve been working with him for almost two years. He’s saved your life a hundred time or more, and you’ve done the same for him. You can’t honestly tell me that you hate Uryuu, after everything.” </p><p>And no, damn it, he did not <em>hate </em> Uryuu . The guy was annoying as hell; he was too pretentious to wear jeans on a weekday and generally thought he was better than most people, but  Ichigo  didn’t <em>hate </em>him. He even had a pretty good reason to be such a prickly bastard. When you got past that, he was an alright guy. He could be funny, with that sharp tongue of his, if it wasn’t aimed your way. He was damn smart, and loyal to a fault. Ishida had gotten Ichigo out of sticky situation after sticky situation – with clever lies, good aim, and frightening tenacity. At the very least, he could admit that he respected his hunting partner. </p><p>Still, some things were simply... unforgivable. “Renj, babe,” he said, closing his eyes and trying muster up the right amount of emotion to properly express the gravity of what he was going through. “You don’t understand. I can hear them, like the walls in this beach house are made out of fucking seaweed, and I am talking <em> hours </em>.” </p><p>There was a contemplative silence on the other side of the line. “You can hear them clearly?” </p><p>“Yes,” he said, but it came out more like a strangled cry than a word. </p><p>“Like, clearly enough to record?” </p><p>“Are you goddamn kidding me, Abarai? Put your dick away for thirty seconds and show me some fucking sympathy, you letch! This is like you being forced to listen to Rukia and Yumichika-” </p><p>“Oh, no!” he cried shrilly. “Don’t you talk about that dark fucking time in my life, Kurosaki, I swear to-” </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, swear to Daddy. Now you get what I’m going through.” </p><p>“Ayasegawa has never once saved my ass, thank you very much. You owe a lot more to Ishida than I do to that bratty twink. Is this filthy affair distracting anyone from hunting down Szayel Aparro?” </p><p>He recoiled at the phrase<em> filthy affair</em>, but made a noise indicating the negative. “Hell no. If anything, by the time Ririn has passed out on the couch, research has become some sort of weird foreplay where they try to see who can find the most useful information, and the loser gets to eyefuck the winner.” </p><p>“Are you kidding me? Ishida’s found his fuckin' soulmate, babe.” </p><p>“Shut your mouth. I hate you.” </p><p>Renji started laughing again, making Ichigo’s heart thud too heavily in his chest. “Is Chad happy? Still planning on coming back home?” </p><p>“Yeah, he better be. Hasn’t said otherwise.” </p><p>Ichigo paused to think about that first question, even though he couldn’t judge how happy Chad had been before they arrived and he starting hooking up with Ishida. He wasn’t exactly an expressive dude. He never really said much, but then again, that was one of the things that allowed him to get so close to Ichigo. Even as a teenager, his patience was impressive. The days when Ichigo showed up wearing a scowl darker than usual and didn’t say a word never bothered Chad any more than the days Ichigo had energy to burn and dragged him to the park after school for a few games of basketball. </p><p>He had watched that same patience, that same fond compliance, be applied to Uryuu for the last month. </p><p>Chad did the laundry while Ishida did the dishes every morning, listened to every rant and self-important word that came out of the other man’s mouth, tagged along on every obscure book hunt. Sometimes the two of them would take a stack of books out on the giant, wrap-around porch to read in the sunshine. After Ishida double checked that none of their reading material could be damaged by direct sunlight, they would sprawl out on a quilt, Chad’s head in Ishida’s lap, his pale fingers carding through thick, dark hair in between flipping the pages of whatever book he had in his other hand. Ichigo had seen them like that a few times. Each time, it struck him that they both looked comfortable, lounging together like a pair of cats, no clue at all to anyone looking in that they were hunting one of the strongest demons in the underworld, hoping to avenge Chad’s grandfather. </p><p>So, Chad was probably happy. Every day, Ishida cooked for him and cleaned up around his house. (Ichigo was a much less constructive guest, it was true. Whatever. He was here to kill a demon, remember? Not play maid to Chad.) Ishida acted like he had never enjoyed music before Chad pulled out his guitar, watched cartoons on Sunday mornings without complaining, and even replaced Ponchiki’s missing button eye, which had been gone since Ichigo and Chad went to a baseball game in Okinawa the year after they graduated high school. Ishida didn’t tease Chad when he asked, didn’t even blink, just made a trip into town and came back with what he needed to get the job done. He had flown halfway around the world to help with this mission, even though he only knew of Chad through Ichigo, but it seemed like that little stitch-up meant a lot more. </p><p>Ichigo had been disgusted to see Chad adored Ishida's sense of humor. That annoying habit he had of answering questions no one had the chance to ask yet? Chad got a good kick out of it. Watching someone fuck up and then explain the right way to do it, but only after they’ve embarrassed themselves? A classic Ishida move that Chad watched with a grin on his face. He sure hadn’t expected his best friend and uptight hunting partner to hit it off like they did, but he couldn’t deny it. They were crazy about each other. </p><p>Ichigo just... didn’t fucking get it. Even though the very idea Chad and Ishida being involved should be far-fetched. And yet, the entire last month, Uryuu had dedicated his days to researching the demon that Chad wanted dead, and reserved his nights for wringing porn star worthy moans from a man normally as silent as a cemetery. </p><p>So, Chad was definitely happy. He still planned to come home, when they were done here. No one had been distracted from their mission in the slightest. Things were going swimmingly. If only he could get to sleep at night without first listening to several hours' worth of his own very audible, very personal Hell. </p><p>He only realized how quiet he’d been when Renji called his name, like he wasn’t sure Ichigo was still on the line. Ichigo nodded and then grunted affimitatively when he remembered Renji couldn't see him. He was too miserable to bring himself to answer Renji properly. Did Chad’s happiness really have<em> this </em>high a price? </p><p>“He definitely seems happy. The way they look at each other makes me sick, but it’s kind of sweet, I guess. Ishida calls him <em>Yasutora</em>and cooks for him and shit. That’s weird. Chad took him <em>fishing </em>the other day, and I wasn’t there, but they both said they had a good time and they seemed to mean it? I honestly think I’m hallucinating sometimes. Like maybe a djinn caught me and I don’t know about it yet.” </p><p>“Want me to drop in for a few days?” Renji asked, like it was no big deal for him to skip out on Heaven for a long weekend. “We can see who gets louder.” </p><p>Ichigo threw his head back and laughed, the one that made Renji press himself closer to the strange human communicator he used to talk to Ichigo, though the man sitting in the sand didn’t know that. “When can you get here?” </p><p>There was the sound of a thousand beating wings all around him, before he had even finished his sentence, and he laughed again when Renji hung up on him, standing right in front of him. He let the angel help him to his feet, folded his arms around those broad shoulders and pressed his face into a tattooed neck. One day he wouldn’t need someone else to pull his head out of his ass for him, but until then, it was a pretty good thing he had this idiot around to help him. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Why isn’t it Rukia that’s here, again?” Ichigo grumbled. He had been steadily getting drunker and moodier about his boyfriend and best friend’s improvised jam session in the last hour, sitting next to Uryuu with a perpetual storm cloud over his head. It was a little annoying, but when <em>wasn’t </em>Kurosaki’s habitual brooding annoying? </p><p>“She’s on a mission, right now, silly!” Ririn hollered at him, as if she knew Rukia from more than overheard conversations and hadn’t gotten that information from Kurosaki himself. </p><p>Uryuu smothered a smirk and finished his tumbler of whiskey. He set it down on the island, reached for the bottle, and was nice enough to fill up Ichigo’s glass before his own. It looked like he needed it more, anyway. He had been shooting dark looks at both Yasutora, on the stool next to Uryuu, and Abarai, sitting in the floor with his back against the oven and a guitar in his lap, and muttering under his breath like the moody teenager he was inside.</p><p>“Oh, is she, now?” he muttered sarcastically, picking up his glass and drinking deep. </p><p>“Ririn,” Uryuu interrupted. He was feeling kind, indeed. It might have had something to do with the heavy hand on his thigh, out of sight and out of his hunting partner’s mind, or maybe the husky voice singing in the ear Kurosaki wasn’t whining in. It definitely had something to do with Yasutora either way. “Why don’t you go get that enchanted dagger and Renji will tell you the story of how he found it?” </p><p>Her blue eyes lit up and she shot off, leaving the beaded curtain over the door swinging wildly. Noba even looked interested. He shuffled a little close to Abarai, back pressed firmly to the wall but head titled in the angel's direction. The door of Chad’s Bronco slammed shut, then there was the sound of her feet pounding back up the porch steps and she had returned. Ririn thrust the sheathed blade right under Abarai's nose, causing him to tip backwards on his stool and nearly drop the guitar in his hands. She would leave Kurosaki alone for the next half hour, at least, while Abarai told one of the more noble of his and Ichigo’s tales. He had a way with kids, and no matter how old Ririn insisted she was, she had the same child-like quality 23-year-old Yuzu possessed that made Uryuu perpetually regard her as in need of protection and guidance. Of course, Yuzu's pleading to be initiated into the Men of Letter's and then asking to be mentored by him hadn't dissuaded that, nor had Ririn's bright eyes and endless questions about his experience.</p><p>“Thanks,” Ichigo said quietly. He probably meant to thank Uryuu for derailing the young lady, and not sidetracking Abarai, but he knew what to expect from Kurosaki. </p><p>Uryuu tipped his glass in his partner’s direction and sipped his drink with a smirk. Yasutora’s thumb was smoothing a path back and forth the seam along his inner thigh. Ichigo may have been frowning into his glass too hard to see the grateful look his best friend sent Uryuu, but he had caught it, allowing those dark eyes to warm him to his toes. </p><p>Yasutora had stopped singing, since Abarai had stopped playing, but he was humming under his breath now and that was nice, too. There were a lot of nice things about him. Uryuu had been making a list, actually, a legitimate, written, numbered list. It was in German, of course, because it was the one language no one else in the house read, and he was not about to have it found. Ichigo’s English and Mandarin were only passable, but he had gotten better at least reading them since he’d partnered with Uryuu. They were out, as well as Japanese and Yasutora’s fluent Spanish. He tried simply keeping a mental list, but once he had gotten past<em> achtzig</em>, it started to get impractical every time he wanted to review the list, hence the writing of a physical one, which was up to <em>einhundertziersundsiebzig</em>. </p><p>If he was being honest with himself, the list was pointless. They were close to finishing the hunt – much closer than the rest of them knew – and he had made his decision. The list served no other purpose than to reassure him, and it did a poor job. He knew exactly how wonderful Yasutora was. He knew exactly how insane it was that he was thinking about asking Yasutora to move in with him, when he moved back to Japan and out of this lovely beach house. He knew likely it was that the request would scare off the best thing that’s happened to him since Kurosaki saved him the very demons he had summoned. </p><p>Uryuu threw the rest of his drink back. He hated the thought of going back to his apartment, alone, after the last month. Most of his time was spent at the Men of Letter’s base in Karakura Town anyway, since his father had moved to take over the one in Tokyo proper, his free time divided between Kurosaki’s apartment, the Kurosaki Clinic and home, or and Urahara’s shop. He ate most of his meals at the base or on the go; he did his laundry at the Kurosaki family’s house, and was even cajoled into a meal or two a month there. Other than using it as somewhere to sleep, he rarely even spent time in his apartment. </p><p>Yasutora didn’t have a solid plan for moving back to Japan, yet. He didn’t want to make one until he had completed the hunt, understandably, and so Uryuu had been putting off asking him. His list, the original, mental one, was only a week old. This argument he kept having with himself had only been going on for eight days. The feelings that drove him there seemed to have started a full month ago, though. The shock was wearing off, at least. He was still overwhelmed, unsure. </p><p>In his favor, none of his boldness had backfired yet. He was almost drunk enough to contemplate asking tonight. It wouldn’t mean less, to him, than asking sober, and he was sure he could express him earnestness and be understood. Uryuu was unsure if something this daring would work. Usually, Yasutora gave just as good as he got, as Kurosaki would say. He smirked to himself at the thought of discussing the boundaries of his comfort that he had toed in order to get close to Yasutora with his surly friend, who would surely combust in embarrassment and indignation at that particular conversation. </p><p>Kurosaki wasn’t taking things as well as Ishida hoped. He sulked when too much attention was diverted from him, like with Abarai playing with Yasutora, and reacted poorly to even accidental public displays of affection. Which annoyed him even more since Uryuu knew from experience that Kurosaki didn’t mind being caught, or even putting on a show, to a certain extent, once Abarai got him riled up. He had spent many a night sleeping in Kurosaki’s car rather than sharing the single motel room available to them. It wasn’t Uryuu’s fault he was too tall to sleep in Yasutora’s Bronco, or that he couldn’t handle a taste of his own medicine. He knew that when Yasutora came home, when they were all back in Karakura Town as a strange web of connected relationships and not clustered together in the comfortable, intimate heat of the beach house, that Ichigo and Yasutora would want to spend as much time together as possible. He didn't want to lose the time he was used to spending with the Kurosaki family or his broody partner, and he didn't want to lose a second of the future he couldn't stop himself from imagining with Yasutora. It was a terrifying conundrum. His possible solution could make things much better or much worse, if it was even considered at all by Yasutora.</p><p>“Yo, Earth to Ishida.” </p><p>He blinked, jerked from his thoughts, and looked up at Kurosaki, who was suddenly standing rather than sitting next to him. “Yes?” </p><p>“I’m getting another beer. Do you want one?” </p><p>“I could use some ice, please.” He handed his tumbler to Kurosaki and took his spot between the stools once he’d moved towards the fridge, swaying a little as he stood. Yasutora watched him with amusement glinting in his eyes. “I’m going to make a phone call; I’ll be right back. Don’t let Kurosaki refill my glass and water down my whiskey before I get back.” </p><p>“Be careful on the steps.” </p><p>Uryuu nodded and trailed his hand across Yasutora’s broad shoulders as he passed him, used both his hands to part the glinting silver and gold beads, took careful steps from the porch to the sand and only remembered he’d forgotten his shoes once his socks were in the sand. He sighed. No walking down to the water, then. Uryuu sat on the bottom step, glanced back at the door, and hoped the raucous story Abarai was telling would drown out his conversation. </p><p>It should be mid-morning in Karakura Town, so he knew Urahara would have been dragged out of bed by Tessai by now. His instincts were correct and it only took three agonizing rings for him to answer. Uryuu didn’t even have the time to seriously contemplate going to get his drink. </p><p>“Good evening, Ishida-san. How can I help you?” </p><p>“Well, Urahara, I think I’m finally going to call in that favor you owe me.” </p><p>There was a rustling on the phone, like candy wrappers being crunched as someone moved too quickly, and then a very subtly interested, “Oh?” </p><p>He gritted his teeth, eyes rolling up in frustration. This wasn’t a waste, of course, but cashing in a life debt that Urahara Kisuke owed him wasn’t something he was doing lightly. “If you can manage what I want, then yes.” </p><p>Urahara chuckled, a little too darkly for Uryuu’s taste. It made his skin crawl. He should have gotten his drink. “You doubt I’m capable of obtaining something off the darker sides of the market?” </p><p>“No, I doubt that you can convince one of the Vizoreds to help with this.” </p><p>The line was tellingly, amusingly silent. He balanced his phone between his shoulder and ear, pulled off his socks and rolled up his pant legs. Uryuu had made it halfway to the ocean before Urahara answered him. “Is it really going to come to that?” </p><p>“Unfortunately, thing only thing I can think of will involve them, yes.” </p><p>“How<em> many </em>of them?” Urahara sighed. </p><p>“One. The trap I need to set in order to catch Szayel Appro will need a bit of grace-” </p><p>“-and you can’t exactly ask an active angel, of course,” Urahara muttered. “I’ll see what I can do. You are hunting down a Prince of Hell, and since they’ve got such a grudge against Aizen-” </p><p>“Precisely. I was hoping that would make them more sympathetic to the cause.” </p><p>“Mhmm. The cause that isn’t yours, even if the favor is. Interesting.” </p><p>“Do you want me to have Ichigo ask, instead? He’d give up his in a heartbeat.” </p><p>There was a pause, different from the earlier one, heavier and guiltier. Uryuu may have nearly died, thanks to a mission against the angels that Urahara had disguised as a rescue, but Ichigo’s wounds were something he could never recover from. No longer a simple hunter trying to keep his town safe, he suffered from the aftermath of possession and worse, thanks in part to Urahara. </p><p>Uryuu stepped into the ocean. Cool water lapped at his feet, his ankles, his shins as he waded a bit deeper. “Call me when you’ve heard something, Urahara-san. I’ve got to explain the plan to the others over dinner.” </p><p>Recovered, he said, “Of course. You won't have to explain the Vizoreds to Ririn or Noba, as they are both familiar with them. Have a good night, Ishida-san.” </p><p>He slipped his cell phone into his pocket and titled his head up towards the sky. There were so many more stars visible on the coast out here than back home, too close to the lights of Tokyo to see much of anything. Uryuu could see entirely different constellations out here. It was a sky he had never thought to imagine, and it was beautiful.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Do you want my advice or not?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The knowledge he had of Ishida’s personality and the obvious nervousness he was exhibiting finally clicked together. Renji stood up and pushed his chair in a little too quickly. He collected the forgotten dinner plates, sent Ichigo a stern look when he tried to object, and cleared his throat meaningfully. There was a conversation to be had, and Renji was not needed – well, not much.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story would have been shorter if I didn't have such a good time writing it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Thanks to imlikat for cheering me on!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What the hell do you mean, angels that were possessed by demons?” </p><p>Uryuu sighed and pushed his glasses up, finger lingering at the bridge of his nose as he thought of the best way to condense the tale. “A hundred years or so ago, there was a group of angels deployed to take care of a particularly strong monster devastating the human population. This required they use vessels to live among the humans. While they were investigating, they were caught in a trap set as part of an experiment Aizen was conducting. He sealed the angels inside their vessels and had the strongest of his forces attempt possessing the same vessels the angels were in.” </p><p>Yasutora made a noise of disbelief, his eyes wide as they peered at Uryuu through his bangs. Next to him at the table, Ichigo looked equally as skeptical. The two hunters that were familiar with Urahara and therefore, the story of the Vizoreds, sat in their seats quietly and did not look at Uryuu. Kurosaki seemed to take note of their silence. He looked between Noba and Ririn with a frown. It stuck to his face when he turned back to Uryuu and made an impatient motion for him to continue talking. </p><p>“It wasn’t<em> not </em>successful,” he said, and that was as well as he could summarize it with the knowledge he had. “The angels’ souls were corrupted, tainted by a being of Hell inhabiting the same space, and though they managed to escape alive, they were declared too dangerous to live. Heaven sentenced them to death.” Uryuu swallowed, uncomfortable with telling this story in front of Abarai, sitting by himself, silent and shocked. “Urahara helped them escape and they’ve hidden for the last century.” </p><p>“And they’re powerful enough to kill Szayel Appro?” Ichigo asked. </p><p>“In a one on one fight, that’s very likely, but I didn’t call anyone in to fight this battle for us. I have a plan in mind and they have something I need. It will require one of them travelling here, though Urahara has already assured me that Noba and Ririn are more than willing to house this guest?” </p><p>Noba nodded solemnly, though Ririn only gave a displeased shrug. “That’s the plan. This place is starting to get a little cramped,” she said, cocking a brow at the towering stacks of books that had been moved out of the way when Uryuu announced dinner was finished. He had ended up buying enough new books since he’d arrived that he would need another suitcase. Perhaps he could ship those that weren’t one-of-a-kind, or cursed... </p><p>Perhaps he would need much more than another suitcase, if Yasutora were to accompany him... </p><p>“What’s the plan?” Abarai asked. </p><p>He swallowed hard and jerked his train of thought back on track. “One or two of the Vizoreds will arrive next week, as long as Urahara is able to persuade them, and I will need their assistance to set a special Devil’s trap designed by the Men of Letters, which should be strong enough to hold a Prince of Hell. It works similarly to the holy oil of Jerusalem; it will trap a being of Heaven or Hell within its confines and set them alight if they try to cross. Abarai will have to stay far away from the trap, as will whichever of the Vizoreds show up.” </p><p>“That sounds like a good plan to trap him,” Yasutora said, despite the lack of details, “but how do we kill him?” </p><p>Ah. There it was. A Prince of Hell had never been killed by anything other than an archangel, so Uryuu was much less than sure his plan would even succeed. “I’m working on that. I have a solid lead, though it requires a modification of the original spell and a few rare ingredients. When the Vizoreds arrive, they should have a package fulfilling an order I’ve placed with Urahara’s shop.” </p><p>“What do you need?” </p><p>Uryuu looked at Yasutora, heart in his throat, and really hoped that he was not overestimating his own abilities. “Time. At least a week, though I can’t say it won’t take longer. I may need to send Abarai off on two or three ingredient hunts, as well.” </p><p>“Of course,” both the angel and Ichigo said at the same time. </p><p>Yasutora stood and pushed his chair back, stalking around the table to get to Uryuu, standing in the doorway to the living room like an anxious lecturer before a podium. His big hands went to Uryuu’s shoulders and slid all the way down to his sharp elbows. Breath stuttering, Uryuu closed his eyes when Yasutora dipped down to press a kiss to the top of his head. His hands fisted uselessly in the fabric of his own shirt. He was not reaching for Yasutora here, in front of so much company with so many keen eyes, not when he his mind was still too fuzzy and his heart too close to his sleeve. </p><p>Yasutora stepped back. He smiled down at Uryuu with breathtaking sincerity. “Take all the time you need.” He paused, face going back to that familiar passive expression. If he looked close enough, Uryuu thought he could see a shine of hope, the warmth of affection in his umber eyes. “I’m going fishing.” </p><p>He blinked after him, heart slowing down. Then that smile flashed through Uryuu’s mind and he felt lightheaded. Unsteadily, he sat down at the table. He only remembered Ichigo was sitting across from him when he waved a hand in front of his face, scowling at Uryuu. </p><p>“What the fuck?” </p><p>He bit back a sigh. “Elaborate, Kurosaki.” </p><p>“You’ve figured it out? You didn’t even say you were close!” </p><p>“Because I don’t know if it will work! This isn’t exactly the sort of thing I can test, in case you didn’t notice. Mentioning it before I knew it was a viable option would have only gotten our hopes up.” </p><p>“Okay. Fine.” He glared sullenly at Uryuu, tone still suspicious. “Are you going to tell Chad more about it while you guys fish?” </p><p>He blinked in surprise. “I’m... I won’t be accompanying him, tonight.” </p><p>It was Kurosaki’s turn to look shocked, though that quickly morphed into a teasing grin. “Not your thing? I thought you had a good time, last week.” </p><p>“I did, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to intrude every time he wants to go-” </p><p>“If you don’t like fishing with him, you should probably just say so, Ishida. It’s really petty of you-” </p><p>“Fishing with Yasutora is wonderful, Kurosaki!” he said indignantly. “It’s very peaceful and I have a lovely time-” </p><p>“Then why are you staying here?” Ichigo snapped back. His arms were crossed over his chest, chin jutting out at a familiar, stubborn angle. </p><p>Yasutora was suddenly standing between them, behind his abandoned chair, wearing tall, rubber boots and carrying a fishing pole. He looked from Uryuu to Ichigo in confusion. “Did you...want to go?” he asked Uryuu, brows knit together. The hesitation in his voice was evident. </p><p>Uryuu <em>wanted </em>to smash Kurosaki’s face into his half-eaten dinner, for being so tactless. He unclenched his jaw and said, “No, thank you, Yasutora. I’ve got a few things I want to go over with Noba and Ririn about their possible guests. Have a good time.” </p><p>A few minutes later, the roar of the Bronco drowned out the sound of the ocean. Yasutora drove away, leaving Uryuu with a houseful of idiots and the supernatural, as well as the beginnings of a headache teasing at his temples. He took a deep breathe, determined to ignore the way Kurosaki was glaring at him from across the room. Uryuu plastered a politely blank expression on his face and got to work. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The air in the beach house was thick, in a way that had nothing to do with the heat or the salt, and everything to do with the layers of human emotions blanketing it. Renji was still getting used to the sheer amount of <em>feelings </em>Ichigo  had, even after a few years with him, because that man could <em>wallow</em> in those feelings. It was truly an impressive talent. Never had he met such an emotional human who wasn’t a something like a playwright or a poet. </p><p>Then again, he couldn’t picture Ichigo as some boring poet, locked up in a cottage scribbling synonyms and drinking himself to death. He was different than a lot of the humans Renji had known. His sheer attitude in the face of anything he came across amazed him. Renji also found himself reeling a few times with the unpredictability of such an unusual human. Ichigo was something else entirely – confusing and strange, thrilling and emotional. </p><p>He was starting to understand, though, at least enough to pick apart the reasons behind his stronger reactions. Some days, it still seemed like he understood these emotions better than Ichigo himself. </p><p>Ichigo sulked in silence while Ishida had a stilted conversation with the neighbors about their spare room, any needs they might have for the new arrival, and whether or not they had a guess as to which of the group it would be. They offered little information but plenty of reassurances; they left soon after Chad, despite Ishida’s attempts to draw out a detailed account of their side of things. Renji did not watch them go, but he kept track of them. He hadn’t had a chance to ask Ichigo about the kind of company Chad was keeping down here on the beach. He certainly had plans to, though. His dear, idiotic human drew trouble from all angles and probably hadn’t even noticed, this time. </p><p>“Yasutora likes to go fishing to feel close to his abuelo,” Uryuu said, breaking the silence in a way that made Renji think of a balloon popping. “It’s pitch black outside, so there’s no way Yasutora will be able to take his boat out, which means he’ll will be traipsing through his boss’s cattle field to get to a stocked catfish pond, catch and release only. He isn’t doing it for the fish.” </p><p>That made Ichigo deflate, in an obvious way, at least physically. Renji debated on getting up and going to him. Ichigo was thick-headed and surly when he drank, but he was also a very hands-on type of person, and something like that seemed like it might require affectionate reassurance. Before Renji could decide, he spoke up. </p><p>“Oh,” he said. It was strange to hear Ichigo sound small. “I didn’t know that. He didn’t really fish, back home.” </p><p>“There weren’t too many places within walking or bus distance,” Uryuu explained, like Chad had said exactly that to him. He probably had. Ichigo was right about their relationship; everything that Renji had witnessed proved that they cared deeply for one another. </p><p>“Right.” </p><p>“Does he have any other family, back home?” The question came haltingly despite its suddenness, and Ishida pushed his glasses up in the middle of it, which meant he wasn’t sure he should ask. Renji turned an interested ear to the conversation. </p><p>“No, none. A few cousins and an uncle in Mexico, I think, but they aren’t close.” Ichigo paused, thoughtfully, and with a little hesitation. “My family was the closest thing he had, I guess. The twins like him a lot. Chad and Karin were pretty close, before she went off to university, and he spent a good amount of time at the house.” </p><p>Renji wondered if Ichigo had ever noticed that Uryuu was the one to fill that void in the Kurosakis’ lives. He didn’t play soccer games against Karin or help Ichigo lose spectacularly at charades on game night exactly the way Chad used to do; instead, he mentored Yuzu in the supernatural and brought the best dishes to Kurosaki-extended-family holidays. </p><p>Their different roles alongside the Kurosaki family did not clash. In fact, they meshed rather well, and the terrified look on Uryuu’s face said he knew that clearly. The knowledge he had of Ishida’s personality and the obvious nervousness he was exhibiting finally clicked together. Renji stood up and pushed his chair in a little too quickly. He collected the forgotten dinner plates, sent Ichigo a stern look when he tried to object, and cleared his throat meaningfully. There was a conversation to be had, and Renji was not needed – well, not much. </p><p>“I’m going to leave you two to speak alone, but not before urging Ichigo to discuss his feelings of envy over how quickly you and Chad bonded, as well as his fear of being pushed aside in favor of your new relationship.” </p><p>Ichigo turned his back to Ishida and glared, open-mouthed, at Renji. He shrugged indifferently under the brunt of his dear, idiot, partner’s anger. Hands up in disbelief, Ichigo mouthed, <em>Are you fucking kidding me?</em> Renji grinned and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving behind the echoes of wingbeats in his wake. Cleaning wasn’t exactly something he had practiced too often, but there was a lightness in his chest that felt like resolution, so he was resolved to do well. Ichigo and Uryuu would be far too busy. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Ishida pushed up his glasses and looked at Ichigo levelly. That look made him want to march down the hall to his bedroom, slam the door behind him. Maybe Renji was right, constantly teasing Ichigo about his temper. He did feel like an angry teenager at heart sometimes. It didn’t feel like he was close to thirty, that’s for sure. </p><p>“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Ichigo scoffed. He was speaking to Ishida, not himself. “Still has problems reading humans and all.” </p><p>“I certainly hope that's the case.” </p><p>Ichigo swallowed his surprised noise and raised his eyebrows. </p><p>“You’d have to be a much bigger imbecile to feel that way than I ever thought of you, and I don’t underestimate people like that.” </p><p>He tried to say something, defend himself or maybe deny the whole thing again, but Ishida barreled on with that glare that made Ichigo feel like a disruptive student. He stayed silent. </p><p>“Yasutora and I wouldn’t have even met if it weren’t for you. There’s no way I would have ever been comfortable staying at an unfamiliar hunter’s house on Urahara’s word alone, and there certainly isn’t any guarantee I would have even considered flying halfway across the world if it had been Urahara who asked for my assistance.” He rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat. “The only way I was comfortable with any of that was on the word of my most trusted ally. I believed that if this spontaneous, out-of-the-way hunt was worth your time, if this <em>Yasutora </em> <em>  Sado</em> I had never met was worth your regard – it is also worth mine.” </p><p>Ishida pushed his glasses up again in the silence that lingered. Face stern, finally looking at Ichigo again, he clarified, “I assumed that meant<em> he </em>is also worth my regard. I was not wrong.” </p><p>That was... flattering to hear, not that Ichigo was about to admit that. He had spent plenty of time thinking about how weird it was for Ishida to immediately jump into bed with someone – and then act like<em> that</em> afterwards – but he hadn’t really considered <em>why </em>he’d done it. Ichigo definitely hadn’t considered it had anything to do with how much he trusted Ichigo’s judgement. He couldn’t exactly argue, either. Chad was a good guy, and he deserved to be happy. Even if it was with Ishida, he figured. </p><p>A bit of reassuring flattery wouldn’t soothe all of his fears, though. He squared his shoulders. “Why are you asking about his family?” </p><p>Ishida went a little green around the gills. He hadn’t had too much to drink, had he? Ichigo squinted at him, which made him scowl back, but also made him start talking. “I was curious about where he would be staying when he got back to Karakura Town.” </p><p>Blinking, Ichigo realized he hadn’t thought to ask. He’d been so excited that Chad was coming back, he didn’t care about the details. Besides, they had a demon to kill before they could even think about heading back home together. That didn’t mean Uryuu wasn’t thinking about it, apparently. “I dunno. He hasn’t said anything about it. I kinda figured he’d crash with me, ‘til he got his own place.” He rolled his eyes at the disgusted face Ishida pulled at any mention of his apartment. For someone who insisted it should be condemned, he sure had spent a decent amount of time hanging out there. </p><p>“Were you thinking of asking him to crash with you, instead?” </p><p>He couldn’t picture anyone else staying at Ishida’s apartment, but that probably had a lot to do with the fact that Ishida barely even lived there. Ichigo didn’t think he even<em> slept </em>there, half the time. “Yuzu and I used to think you lived at Headquarters,” he recalled aloud, laughing a little, before he could stop himself. </p><p>Indignant pink colored Ishida’s cheeks, but he only scoffed. </p><p>“Then I realized there are no private showers at HQ, so no way in hell are you living there.” </p><p>“I live at the same apartment I’ve been leasing for three years now, thank you very much, and there are so.” </p><p>“What? No way! Where are they?” </p><p>“Secret societies tend to have a few secrets, Ichigo,” he sniped. </p><p>“Yuzu never told me about them!” </p><p>“As she shouldn’t,” Ishida said, smirking as he slid his glasses back up his nose again. “I’ve trained her well.” </p><p>Ichigo scoffed, “Whatever, fuck you,” and realized he had gotten derailed from the conversation too easily. “So, what? You gonna tell Chad he can stay at your place for a while? It’s nice of you to return the favor, or whatever.” </p><p>It was more than nice, actually, and that had alarms going off in his head. He knew, in his own weird way, that Ishida was a very generous guy. A lot of his time and effort went into a thankless job; even more went towards people who didn’t realize he was doing something nice, but that’s probably because he bitched them out the whole time. His cold attitude was a front, mostly, and Ishida was pretty optimistic in his view of the world underneath it, Ichigo had been glad to find out. An admirable thing, since he knew Ishida had a hard lot in life. It was pretty easy to nod sympathetically and say,<em> who doesn’t? </em>after the shit he had seen, but even he felt bad for the prickly bastard when he stopped to think on it.</p><p>Ishida was a man of his own making, despite his legacy membership in the Men of Letters. Like Ichigo, his mom had died when he was young, and then his grandfather was killed; he didn’t have any other family he trusted or even spoke to. His dad was probably the coldest man Ichigo had ever met. Nowadays, there were a lotta workarounds in hunting, extracting demons and reversing curses, instead of killing the host or the caster, if possible. Ryuuken Ishida didn’t believe in that sort of thing. Ichigo had seen him tell a woman her thirteen-year-old son was better off dead than returned to her post-possession. </p><p>Ichigo didn’t have the full story on the estrangement between father and son, but he didn’t need the details. That image of Ryuuken, a stoic figure in designer suit, handing back a missing person’s poster and dropping that heartless advice, had cemented Ichigo’s opinion of that bastard a long time ago. He could only imagine how much worse the shit Ryuuken had said to Uryuu was. It was <em>always</em> worse when it was personal. </p><p>Ishida said he moved out young, got out from under his dad’s thumb before he had even graduated high school, and was able to starting hunting his own way, with a weird mixture of old-fashioned tracking and Men of Letters’ combat techniques. It was dangerous. It was even more dangerous hunting alone, as he usually did. He got himself in trouble and ended up allied with Ichigo and company. Company which included angels, and led to Ishida discovering an angel had orchestrated his grandfather’s murder, an angel he was unable to kill thanks to Ichigo’s wordless, wavering treaty with Heaven. It was a rocky start. And only made it even more apparent how fucked up their lives were </p><p>Right off the bat, Ishida had plenty of reason to be distrustful of any new ally Ichigo brought in. He knew that he would trust anyone Ishida introduced, well enough to work with them. But it didn’t stop his surprise that the reverse was true, when he actually thought about it. He was confused as to how that trust had gotten them <em>here</em>, with Ishida willing to let this guy he had just met stay at his apartment for an indefinite amount of time. Ishida wasn’t the type to get so friendly this quickly. There had to be something else going on. </p><p>His hunch was correct, he knew, when Ishida took a deep breath, with the way he went very pale and very tense before he spoke. He stared down at his hands, clasped on top of the table, the knuckles bone white. When he spoke, it was with steel. “I’m considering asking him to move in with me.” </p><p>Something glass shattered in the kitchen and Ichigo distantly heard Renji cursing and apologizing, but his soul had left his body about half a second before all that started. Surely, he was dreaming of djinn disaster scenarios. He stuck his finger in his ear and twisted it around. It came away clean and he blinked at his hand for a minute. </p><p>“Huh?” </p><p>The steel brittled and Uryuu was trying to talk over himself all of a sudden, eyebrows draw together like he was concentrating really hard, hands still bone white where they rested on the table. “It’s been nice splitting the chores between someone, and while there won’t be half as much sweeping back home, I’ll be doing a lot more cooking.” </p><p>Ishida kept talking, giving reasons that were supposed to make sense, about splitting rent and the disgusting state of Ichigo’s apartment, but Ichigo couldn’t get past the first one. Half of the meals Ichigo had seen him eat were the product of Ishida and Yuzu’s combined making, once she wrangled him into staying for dinner. A few were celebratory dinners after a good hunt, but the rest were all made up of things like convenience store onigiri, vending machine fruit, and expensive teas or coffees. He almost never cooked at his own apartment. </p><p>He barely <em>lived </em>at his own apartment, and he wanted Chad to live there. </p><p>“Holy shit,” Ichigo breathed. He felt like he’d been punched in the face. “You’re actually, like, happy here.” </p><p>Ishida shook off the surprise of having his rambling cut off and looked at him like he had something particularly stupid. His cheeks were pink, and Ichigo distantly thought that it was good to see him finally get his color back. </p><p>“What are you talking about?” </p><p>Normally, he would have rolled his eyes at that defensive tone, but he was too busy being surprised that Ishdia didn’t outright deny it. He fucking <em>was</em>. A mental montage of the last month assaulted him like Renji’s upcoming <em>I told you so</em>’s surely would: Ishida spending hours he could be working or researching with Chad instead, the easy affection between them that Ichigo didn’t recognize from Ishida, so much home-cooked food their meals seemed more like feasts. </p><p>How in the world had Ichigo missed<em> that</em>? </p><p>Rukia probably would have answered that question with a shitty drawing of him doing something like standing on a cliff, staring out at the horizon, brooding and hunched. Renji would have laughed and thrown the question back in his face. Ishida just wanted to avoid the topic, apparently. </p><p>He leaned back in his chair, feeling different. Also,<em> stupid</em>, but that wasn’t totally new. “I thought this was just some fun you were having on vacation, maybe, or a fling that would, you know, fizzle out. I didn’t think you had invested any <em>emotions </em>in this.” </p><p>He felt even stupider when the emotions immediately bled out of Ishida’s expression. Here Ishida was, telling Ichigo how much he trusted him and how seriously he felt about Chad, and Ichigo was calling him heartless.<em> Foot, meet mouth. </em> </p><p>“Shit, I meant, not like that. I’ve never seen you happy, I guess. Not like this. I’ve never even seen you interested in a relationship, let alone watched it play out in front of me. Chad’s my best friend, and I know what he’s like when he’s into someone. You’re my partner, and I’ve seen you covered in blood and on fire and running on three hours of sleep in twice as many days, but not trying to confess your feelings about someone, man.” Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck, throat tight with guilt. He didn’t wanna tell Ishida that he’d been afraid he would get bored of Chad once they got back home, get sucked back into his routine and workload and stop answering his texts or making time for the gentle giant, who wouldn’t want to impose too badly or bug Uryuu too much once he started ghosting Chad. “I didn’t know you were so serious about Chad.” </p><p>So, maybe his imagination had run wild with a worst-case scenario. It wasn’t the first time. And it wasn’t exactly Ishida’s fault, as long as those weren’t his intentions, and they definitely didn’t seem to be. </p><p>“I don’t exactly date. Casually.” </p><p>“I should have known that,” he chuckled. </p><p>Ichigo waited for Ishida to speak up, watched him burn out his processor with everything involved in handling the current conversation. “This is all very new to me, Kurosaki. My family didn’t set around the dinner table and talk about our feelings,” and Ichigo really wished he could argue, but it happened in the Kurosaki home. Frequently. “I expected to come here and kill a demon, not start a relationship.” </p><p>“Alright, then we at least got here on the same page.” He grinned at the glare Ishida sent him, leaning his chair back on two legs and using his foot to balance himself. That fierce blue gaze turned to his socked foot atop the table. Ichigo started talking before Ishida could get angry enough to knock him down. “But now that you’ve skipped ahead a couple of chapters and want to put a ring on it-” </p><p>That did the trick. Ishida’s face went bright red and he lost the ability to breathe, sputtering incoherently in his embarrassment. “That is not- I never- Don't you put words in my mouth, Kurosaki. I swear-” </p><p>“Yeah, yeah. Close enough. Do you want my advice or not?” </p><p>He rolled his eyes at the suspicious look Ishida was giving him, even if he probably deserved that. Or worse, for doubting his partner. “Are you offering it?” </p><p>There was a split second where he felt the tilt of the chair going out of his favor, falling the slightest bit too far back, long enough that he could’ve caught himself if he hadn’t been drinking. The air leaves his lungs when the back of the chair slams into the floor, foot off the table and dangling uselessly underneath it. Silence reigned after the bang of the chair. Ichigo sighed. Smoothing a hand over his forehead, dragging it over his hair and letting it fall to the floor behind him, he said, “I guess I am. Now, stop laughing and help me up, you bastard.” </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The Bronco announced his arrival before he had driven past Noba and Ririn’s house, a single light on in the back of their house letting him know they had left his, and Ichigo was waiting for him on the porch, a joint between his lips as he stretched out on the pale wood. The screen door was closed for the first time since his guests had arrived, a much more stench-proof barrier than the beads behind it. Looked like all of the lights were off, too. </p><p>“You could have asked, you know,” he said, sitting down on the steps and taking off his boots. </p><p>“You weren’t home. Who should I have asked? Ishida?” The grin in his tone was evident even in the dark, when the one on his face was not. “Didn’t think so.” </p><p>Chad grunted. He hadn’t been sure about leaving the two of them here alone after their spat at the table, but he trusted Uryuu when he told Chad to go. Uryuu could handle himself in an argument with Ichigo – not that he wanted them to start arguing the moment his back was turned. Ichigo didn’t look guilty, though. He didn’t seem to be out on the porch brooding. Whatever happened after he left couldn’t have been that bad, then. </p><p>“Smart of you not to hide your stash in your bedroom. Ishida sure isn’t the type to go snooping around the tool shed.” </p><p>“Not legal in this part of the States, yet.” </p><p>“Yeah, you told me that on the drive from the airport. I bet that rant Ishida went on about <em>the uselessness of recreational drug use</em>,” Ichigo said in an eerily accurate imitation of Uryuu’s tone, “left an impression?” </p><p>He shrugged, took the joint from Ichigo, and brought it to his own lips. The middle was too fat, the bottom gummed up. He used his free hand to ruffle Ichigo’s hair. Both of his hands couldn’t move Chad’s, despite his attempts, and Chad just chuckled at him. “Still can’t roll.” </p><p>“Not my fault you’re too cheap to buy a decent piece.” </p><p>Chad shrugged again. He liked rolling. It reminded him of Tito rolling his cigarettes, and sometimes the corner store even stocked the same papers Tito used. He usually liked to spend the mornings he didn’t have to work out on his boat, fishing with the ghost of Abuelo and coming home to roll with the memory of Tito. It was his own ritual, one he had never shared with anyone else, though Uryuu knew the significance of his fishing trips. Yet, here was Ichigo, half-ass completing his homecoming ritual for him. </p><p>They passed it back and forth for a while, sitting in the sounds of breaking waves and the sight of starlight. He really would miss this place. Home was still Karakura Town, but home was still Mexico, too, and he thought maybe now, home would be Texas. Maybe he would come back to visit sometime. </p><p>“Gotta say, Chado, I’m gonna miss this view when we head back.” </p><p>He shook off the feeling that Ichigo had just read his mind and hummed contemplatively for a moment. “It’s dark as hell.” </p><p>Ichigo laughed, punched him in the shoulder, and said, “You know what I’m saying. It’s beautiful here.” </p><p>“Yeah, I know.” </p><p>“The paved streets and tall buildings and trimmed hedges back home are a little lacking, in comparison.” </p><p>Chad knew that, too. Karakura Town was definitely lacking in natural beauty, unlike living right on the beach, but he didn’t mind too much. It had other appeals. He thought of the Kurosaki house, alive with bickering and familial love, either the scents of home-cooked meals or strong sterilizers lingering in the halls. He thought of Orihime’s exuberant smile, Keigo’s explosive laughter, the glint Mizurio got in his eyes when he had a rumor to share. It was home, more than anywhere else, and it was steeped in the past that he wanted so badly to return to, sometimes, when he was too young to go off on his own. </p><p>He thought of Uryuu’s elegant hands stitching up Ponchiki, the scowl he always gave Ichgio when he mispronounced something on purpose. He thought of the way his heart went wild anytime Uryuu got close to him. There was also the possibility of a future, in Karakura Town. One where he felt this way every day, except better, because he would’ve finished his hunt and gotten to go back home. </p><p>“I’ll be glad to go back.” </p><p>“Bet you never imagined you’d be going back with a new boyfriend, huh?” </p><p>The question was good-natured, and Chad was happy for the cover of darkness when he flushed, pleased and surprised. Whatever happened while he was gone must have been good, then. He shook his head. Then, belatedly, he answered, “Not really.” </p><p>Ichigo took a long drag and didn’t say anything else afterwards. He handed the joint to Chad and stood up, silhouetted in the bit of light coming from the living room, brushing off his ass and trying to fix his hair. Chad looked at him in surprise when he started to speak, sure the conversation had been over. </p><p>“Never really thought I’d see Ishida head over heels for someone, either,” and that same smiling tone was back. “Looks good on him, though. Don’t fuck that up.” </p><p>He finished the joint once Ichigo had left, smoking it down to a cherry and some paper before smothering it in the sand. He left his boots by the steps and closed the door behind him. There was a lone lamp on in the living room, casting shadows over the stacks of books and assortment of duffle bags tucked into available corners. Chad tried to remember what his living room looked like five or six weeks ago and couldn’t recall. He shut off the lamp, making his way through the dark by memory. </p><p>Chad scrubbed his face hard in the shower, tried to let his thoughts was down the drain with the grainy bits of peach stones from the fancy face wash Uryuu liked. They didn’t leave him when he worked his fingers through his hair and scrubbed his scalp like he was actually trying to force them out. He brushed his teeth and they stayed with him, keeping pace with the <em>swish-swish</em> of his toothbrush. They didn’t wash down the sink drain with anymore success than the shower. </p><p>He was still thinking about Uryuu and going home (<em>going home with Uryuu?</em>) when he climbed into bed beside Uryuu. Chad stared up at the ceiling fan, Uryuu’s back pressed against his side, and realized he had a lot of thinking to do, actually. </p>
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